


Put a Ring on it!

by Alexis_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Marauders' Era, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Black/pseuds/Alexis_Black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What’s the worst that could happen? After a fun evening at a Muggle pub on the last night of their Christmas holiday, Sirius Black learns the hard way. Of all his brilliant ideas, this one really took the biscuit. </p><p>“I’m done with Muggle birds, I swear it!”</p><p> </p><p>First Place winner in Marshal's Tis the Season Challenge at HPFF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put a Ring on it!

Sirius stumbled into the first available train compartment and lowered himself gingerly with a wince. That it was already occupied by a pair of lovely Ravenclaws with whom he had been flirting with non-stop prior to Christmas break was unimportant. He hardly took note of them as his trousers pulled tight in the most painful way once he was seated.

“Oi, Black, you alright there?” Florence asked. “You look a bit peaky.”

Beads of sweat were forming on Sirius’ pale brow. _‘It’ll make it so much better next time, she’d said. Insatiable bird.’_ He blamed Lily for his misery. It was only at her suggestion that he’d ended up in that Muggle pub in the first place.

“I’m fine,” he muttered through clenched teeth, which had Florence and Gemma exchanging glances.

“If you’re going to honk-”

He ran a hand through dark hair that obviously hadn’t seen a comb in a while. “Not sick, just stupid.”

That the undisputed rake of Gryffindor House had just announced himself as stupid and hadn’t attempted to flirt with either of them left them briefly wordless. It could mean only one thing.

“He’s sick,” they declared and quickly gathered their belongings. At best, whatever Sirius had could be contagious; at worst, they’d be stuck in close quarters with someone who looked ready to chuck his breakfast and maybe last night’s dinner. They departed in such a hurry that they left the door open behind them.

Sirius gratefully took advantage of the emptied train compartment to himself to tug the crotch of his trousers into a slight less painful position. Just lifting his arse off the bench nearly brought tears to his eyes. Of all his brilliant ideas, this one really took the biscuit.

“I’m done with Muggle birds, I swear it!” Sirius exclaimed to himself.

“Swear what, Padfoot?” James asked, sticking his head in before waving at someone down the corridor. “Peter, up here. Sirius saved a compartment for us.”

His grey eyes closed as he leaned backwards Sirius moaned. Why couldn’t Florence and Gemma have stayed? He might have been able to convince at least one to let him lay his head on their lap. The last people he wanted to see were James or Peter. _‘No, I take that back. They don’t have Moony’s sense of smell.’_

“Budge over, you prat!” James playfully shouldered Sirius, pushing him down the bench.

“Uugh!” The grunt escaped before Sirius could stop it. He threw a forearm protectively around his lower midsection and drew his knees up.

“What gives, Padfoot? Got sloshed after you left the pub last night, did you?” Peter inquired as he slid the door shut and then secured his trunk in the space above the bench.

Sirius pulled himself upright and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. “No. I wish I had. Wish I could right now.”

A look passed between James and Peter. “So what were you swearing off then, mate? Besides singing while drunk.”

If he told them, Sirius would never live it down. It went beyond dragging Wormtail and Moony on stage last night to back up his questionable vocals. Knowing his friends as he did, though, they probably wouldn’t stop pestering him until he admitted it.

“You don’t want to know,” he answered just as the compartment door slid open.

“What do we not want to know?” Remus asked. “And Sirius, you left your trunk on the platform. You’re lucky I recognized it.” A flick of Remus’ wand sent the floating trunk upwards where it slid in neatly next to the others. The whistle blew the moment it settled into place. “James, remember we need to head to the Prefects compartment before Lily comes looking for us.”

A belabored groan was grudgingly drawn from Sirius as the train jerked into motion and his head smacked the window. _‘Any minute now, he’s going to notice.’_

“We’ll leave in a moment. Padfoot here was swearing something off when we found him,” James answered.

Peter chimed in, “It’s not getting rat-arsed or singing Muggle songs about Potter’s girl off-key.”

Remus ignored Peter, as tempting as it was to do otherwise. His sensitive nose twitched. “What’s that smell?”

“Not me; I bathed. Which of you prats blew off?”

Peter was once more ignored as Remus took the seat across from Sirius. “Coppery…” he murmured with his eyes closed, “like a burnt two-pence.” Remus opened his brown eyes and stared at Sirius intently. “Are you bleeding, Padfoot?”

The jig was up. There would be no hiding it now. “I was. I hope I’m not anymore. Can we just leave it at that?” he pleaded uncharacteristically.

“No!” All three of his steadfast friends answered a bit too heartily for Sirius’ liking.

“What happened after you left the pub with that Muggle woman, the blonde one – what was her name?” James inquired.

“Jacqueline, I believe,” answered Remus. His concerned brown eyes never left Sirius’ pale face. “You’re sweating up a storm there, mate.”

“You would be, too, Moony. Trust me.”

“In over your head again? Was she a bit too much to handle?” James asked, “Best just to admit it straight out.”

“Enough.” Sirius held up his hands in surrender. “Jackie took me to her flat. It started out nice enough. I remembered your advice, Prongs. No magic, at least not with the wand I got from Ollivanders.”

That drew a snigger from Peter.

“Then she took off her shirt and, well, I knew she had baps like a pair of ripe melons before we left.” Sirius cupped his hands chest high to emphasis his point.

“She did have cracking pair of thrupney bits, yeah?”

“Right as ever, Wormtail. But what I didn’t expect was the ring.”

Three confused faces stared at Sirius.

James finally hazarded a guess. “She was married and her husband walked in?”

Despite the pain, Sirius had to grin. “No, she had this little silver ring, like an earring, but going through her nipple. Called it a piercing. And attached to it was this red and green Christmas tassel that started bouncing and twirling when I had her on top.”

Sirius’ finger scribed a lively circle in the air at the approximate height above his lap.

“Dog’s bollocks, you git!” Peter cried out. “Not even a bint would put a ring through her bit!”

James shook his head. “He’s just taking the piss out of us, Remus.”

Remus simply held up a hand to forestall further comments. “How exactly does this have anything to do with the scent of blood?”

“Hold onto your fur, Moony, I’m getting to that part.” Sirius shifted on the bench trying to find a more comfortable position. It was nearly impossible between the throbbing pain and what he was about to confess. “Afterwards, we got to talking about her piercing and had a few more drinks. One thing led to another, and next thing I know Jackie convinced me to get one.”

Silence hung in the compartment, thick enough to cut. The only sound was the soft rhythmic clack-clack underfoot of the train racing over the tracks.

“You’re telling us you got this piercing thing done, through a nipple?” James asked slowly.

Sirius closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, mate. Not my nipple. A little lower than that.” Taking a deep breath against both the anticipated pain and humiliation, he undid his trousers and leveraged himself off the seat just enough to slip the waistband of his pants halfway down. “She said it would liven things up next time. It’s called a Prince Albert.”

Peter squeaked faintly and covered his mouth as he scrabbled backwards. His throat worked convulsively as he fought to keep his gorge down.

“Merlin’s hairy arse!” James’ knee jerked upwards reflexively as he leaned away. “How – what – is that a bit of ribbon hanging off it?”

Sirius peered down for a moment and nudged it, causing his friends to flinch. “I think it’s a leftover Christmas bow.”

The only one who didn’t move as far away as possible was Remus, who was wearing an expression torn between repulsion and fascination. “Sirius, is it supposed to be swollen like that, mate?”

_**~ Finite ~** _

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my lovely beta narcissablack for putting up with my peculiar brand of insanity. Also thanks to MrsHarryPotter for helping this bloody Yank with when it came to Britpicking.
> 
> I have only my demented muse, Jack Black’s take on Frodo at the Council of Elrond, and my friend Marshal to blame for this one-shot. Mostly Marshal, though.
> 
> Story title from “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it!), Beyoncé, I Am…Sasha Fierce
> 
>  
> 
> Banner by narcissablack.
> 
>  


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